shut up and kiss me
by incense-whiskers
Summary: it's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier/scenes of an unusual relationship
1. Bank Meeting

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy._

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The Paladin dropped her bag on the counter in front of the banker and smiled at him.

"G'day miss," he greeted her cheerily, reaching for his ledger with her account on it. "What have you got for me today?"

"Well, I picked up some more herbs in the mail that I don't need at the moment and some new alchemy formulas," she explained, handing over the bundles to be carefully recorded and put away. "And then I picked up a couple of things for the guild. Some weapons and a couple of better potions I made up."

"An invisibility potion? That's impressive Miss Paladin," her banker remarked. "Is that everything today?"

"Yes it is."

"Well then I'll take care of this and you have a good day now." he replied and closed her personal ledger. The Paladin smiled and waved goodbye. Turning, she ran into a black plated chest and nearly lost her balance. A firm grip on her hand kept her from falling.

"Careful now." The accent was unmistakable. The bank fell silent as Besa looked up and saw only a cloaked face and horns curling out of the black plate helmet. A Death Knight, of the Ebon Blade judging at her presence in the city.

"I'm sorry. Thank you." she replied and moved out of her way. The fallen Draenei nodded and stepped up to the window. The banker trembled visibly.

"How may I help you today ma'am." _Light bless him and his old fashioned ways_, thought Besa.

"I would like to leave these with you," the Death Knight stated. "They are of no use to me at the moment."

"Certainly."

Aware that the entire bank, including herself had be studying the interaction, as if it was a crime for a person to deposit some cloth and lesser-valuable gems at a bank, Besa coloured and hurried out of the building and into the sunshine. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but simply being in the Death Knight's presence sapped all the warmth out of her. It didn't explain her surprising gentleness though, something unheard of in all of the rumours she had heard about the Lich King's favoured servants.


	2. Second Meeting

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy._

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"Do you know where a mining trainer could be found?" A familiar duelled accented voice asks. Besa turns on her horse and looks up at the stranger from earlier. Her charger is uneasy beside the Death Knight's mount, and chill permeates the air.

"Beg pardon if I offend," Besa replies carefully. "But are you not a little late in the season for such training?" The other woman shifts in her seat.

"Such talents were unnecessary before."

_Huh. _

"I'd look into the Dwarven District, or ask any of the guards. Mining is not a forte of mine unfortunately," She explains, pointing at a guard for reference. The Death Knight nods once and flicks her reins gently, something else that would be considered revolutionary in the waking stereotype of this warrior. As the mount moves forward Besa notes remains of what looks to be bananas and tomatoes on the saddle. "What happened?" The mount stops and the rider's head turns fractionally towards the Paladin.

"The saddle. Why is there..."

"I was a servant of the Lich King and part of the Scourge Army, Paladin. When I arrived in your city to deliver a letter from Highlord your people," she hesitates. "Were displeased with my presence in their streets."

_And so they threw rotting produce at you,_ Besa finishes silently as the Death Knight nudges her way through the crowds of Trade District. She notes the glares that the citizens throw at her and wonders at the humility of this former Scourge weapon.


	3. Dinner Date

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy._

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The inn is filled to the seams with patrons, dredging in from the damp drizzle and seeking the warmth of a stoked hearth and good cheer. Already tables are filled with groups of travellers, friends who have long since gathered together around a mug of mead and a full plate. The windows are steamed up and Besa gratefully waves at the rosy-cheeked innkeeper. Making her way through the throng she sits herself down at mostly empty table in the farside of the inn, next to the window. A Draenei female sits alone, staring out of the fog covered glass.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the Paladin asks cheerily, removing her helmet. The other guest turns and stares at her and all the warmth of the room evaporates.

"It is not my table." the Death Knight says finally and spears a potato with a fork and eats it without enthusiasm. Taking her reply for a _Yes, please take a seat_, Besa flags down a serving girl and snags a mug of dark beer. The innkeeper arrives shortly thereafter with a full plate and a warm grin. The Death Knight is ignored and something in the back of the Paladin's mind thinks that it is simply not fair at that action.

"How long have you been in the city?" Besa asks, spearing her own potato and revelling in it's fluffy inside.

"Since I delivered the letter."

"So, how long?" Besa presses again. The female gives her a steady stare.

"Yesterday, midmorning."

"Now string that together in a full sentence for me." the human insisted.

"Why?"

"Because in order to have a amicable relationship, one must converse. Usually this involves speaking with sentences." Besa replies through a mouthful of asparagus. The Draenei sips her drink, a fine red wine.

"I do not need a _friend_." she says coldly. Besa ignores the frost on the windowpane and smiles a grin of bared teeth.

"That is truly unfortunate because now you have one. I suggest talking in full sentences and introducing yourself to appease me," she states, stabbing her fork in the air for emphasis. The two lock eyes and Besa feels the crackle of Light at her fingertips and knows that while it is a threat of power, it is nothing compared to that of a Death Knight. "The food is getting cold, hurry it up will you?"

"The nights on this planet are always cold, the Ebon Hold is colder still," her reluctant dining companion murmurs. "Cold is something I have long since relinquished any thought over."

"What you need then, friend," Besa smiles widely and gestures for the serving girl to return to their table. "Is more wine."


	4. Lines in the Sand

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy. Yes, the name "Illah" is taken from the ATLA series – is was the name of a Fire Lady? I used it because it sounded pretty and I was running out of options._

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It had been a disaster from the start, Illah thought. The leader was sloppy and ignorant to the needs of the party. To her left the healer was underseige and the Paladin, Besa was striking away at her league of foes with great bursts of holy _Light_. In front of her the leader was facing off against a number of foes but Illah tired of this. Beside her the corpse of the fifth member of their party lay at her feet. Sighing, she cast a circle of Decay around the captain and summoned a ghoul to rescue the faltering healer.

Casting up a great spell of entombing ice she motioned for the lesser armed party member to run. Hesitating for only a moment the Priest fled to a safer area to heal himself so that he could properly aid the rest of the party. Illah raised a hand and concentrating hard – she cared little for the ways of blood runes, felt for the veins and the arteries and then tugged and - - the ghoul gave a growl of delight as the frosted enemies started shrieking as the very blood in their skins started to boil. Turning towards the Paladin, she hefted her sycth and watched at the captain fell and the gang of orcs turn on them.

"You are damaged," Illah said softly. "Until the healer has returned you must act in his stead."

"But I -"

"We have no other options, Paladin, do or die." she replied tersely and marched forward.

The Death Knight was not unaccustomed to these small raiding parties and healers. While she could withstand much damage and carried a great number of healing potions and bandages she still relied heavily upon a dependable healer. Druidic healers were efficient and silent about their business while Priest spells tingled unpleasantly. However when compared to the spells of a Paladin – _surely_ she realized that throwing down what felt like pure _Light_ would pain any member of the Scourge? Even after forsaking the Lich King the pain of _Light _still burned along her eyes and numbed her fingers and toes. However, between chilblains and decay and her ever eager ghoul she finally manages to slaughter the last orc soldier. Turning around she sees the Paladin slumped on the floor lifting a potion bottle to her lips. Chugging it, she stands up with a slight waver to her step and hobbles to their fallen Dwarven Hunter and reaches forth to bring back his soul and mend his corpse.

The Priest runs back at that moment and rushes over to the Captain and Illah turns to loot the corpses. When she has finished, the Priest and the Paladin are busy healing the ressurected party members and the Death Knight wraps her own wounds in the bandages she made and drinks the health potion that she carefully packed with some food and drink that she bought for this very purpose.

She never notices the Paladin's crest fallen face at her sitting form.

_I am a Death Knight,_ Illah thinks as the Blessings come forth. _I am forgiven but not accepted of the Light._


	5. Mail Time

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy._

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Illah set her bags down at the armory and rolled her shoulders. The armourer, a middle-aged man took one look at her and came scurrying around the corner "tsk-ing" as he did so.

"Had a bad go of it?" he asked as he helped to remove the battered plate and saronite.

"Hn." She replied. That run could have been much, much smoother but the leader decided to attract large groups that attracted larger groups. The poor hunter went through three different pets and the druid lost her staff in the melee. The armourer set the chest piece on stand and whistled at the slice that had nearly cut the plate in half.

"This is going to be pricey," the man warned, running his fingers over her bracers. "But I'll fix this up for you."

"How much?" she asked. The man gave an estimate and she pulled out the coin needed. Plus a tip. Saronite was not pleasant to work with. "I'll return in a day or two." The man nodded, mind firmly fixed on assessing the damaged goods. Illah picked up her bags and wandered out into the sunlight. Hearing the jingle of goods that she had looted she wandered to the nearest merchant and opened her pack.

"I buy and trade, Death Knight." The woman said with a pleasant smile. Illah hardly twitched and started laying out her loot – broken tusks and fangs, scraps of tough hide, weapons that she could not use. Then she pulled up a fragrant flower and her fingers brushed up against a cool water skin. Draenic water, the healer had exclaimed. Good for mana. Hesitating, she pushed the items back into the pack and extended her hand towards the merchant who gave a large sum of silver and copper pieces.

Around the corner sat a post box and Illah hastily scribbled a message together and attached the steelbloom, gromsblood and the Drainei water and handed over the small postage fee to the worker there. Grumbling, she turned and brushed through the crowd to the auction-house.

_A week later in Ironforge, Besa strolled over to the post box and was delighted to find that a box had been waiting for her. Inside the box lay a mix of gromsblood and steelboom sprigs and a few precious skins of filtered Draenei water. Near the bottom, ink smudged was a note: _

_"Thought you might use this. I."_


	6. Caste System Thoughts

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy._

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It was odd, to be sure, to watch other classes interact with each other. Warriors and Paladins gave friendly nods, argued over single versus dual handed weaponry; Priests and Shamans and Druids often spoke of religious texts and lore, different ways to bandage a wound; the Warlocks passed company to both Mages and Rogues, great power and secrecy was afforded to all three and often – while few we outright admit to talking to a Warlock in public- you would catch glimpses of notes being passed along, a flagon of ale purchased for the mana-dry sop at the end of the bar.

But Death Knights?

There were so many of them now, so many races represented in the resurrected _supersoldiers_ that everyone hoped for. Yet none of them went out of their way to acknowledge the presence of another. They didn't crowd around a table at a tavern or inn and talk about the battles they had seen or try foreshadowing the landscapes they had yet to fight on. They didn't debate strategies on how to take down the Lich-King and his great Scourge army, or offer opinions of the next movement from the Horde.

It was a wonder, Besa thought as she sat in the square waiting for a friend, that people depended on them they way that they did. From the behaviour that the Death Knight class exhibited one would begin to fear that they simply did not care for each other as comrades and when pitted in battle against the Legion or the Scourge there would be no teamwork. Comradrie often meant the difference between winning or losing a battle and in battles that depended on extinction, surely, surely there would be some recognition in their eyes about the direness of the situation?

_Yet Illah's eyes are shadowed, her thoughts out of reach._

_Besa will keep reaching because she truly believes that this small battle is important. Walking before running, pebbles make mountains and small alliances will build empires._


	7. Mountain Top Exchange

_Disclaimer: The characters are mine._

_Summary: It's easy to animate a corpse, resurrecting a soul is much trickier._

_Author's Note: A collection of drabbles. Nothing fancy._

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"Hey!"

The Death Knight made no outward sign of hearing the call and focused on the talon in her hand. Scowling to herself she unsheathed a small dagger and gently started scraping the encrusted grime off the griffin's claws.

"Hey!"

The griffin swivelled its head around and squawked at the intrusion. Illah flicked her eyes up once to see the familiar glowing sword and oversized knee high boots. The human female Paladin, Besa. The one who was trying to blessedly hard to be "friends". The scowl deepened and wiped off the dirt of the inspected claw with a damp scrap of cloth. The beast gave a growl and lunged suddenly and a clatter of armour sounded a very close dodge. Illah nudged the griffin to give her the hindleg and proceeded with the manicure.

"Are you listening at all?"

"Other then a rather long lists of complaints? No."

"You're camping on a peak."

"I like the view."

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to get up here?"

"It is not my fault that your mount only has four legs."

"It took my bird three days to find you."

"Your bird was a companion, if I guess correctly, to a pirate."

"Are you insulting my parrot?"

"Companions and mounts only possess relative intelligence."

The knife caught on a patch of ingrown talon. Illah frowned at it.

"Are you insulting my intelligence?"

"What, in the name of the Titans, are you doing up here?"


End file.
